


Breathe

by khalisey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 03:00:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15257958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khalisey/pseuds/khalisey
Summary: You and Dean don't mess around. You both know what you want and that suits you both fine. Just don't fall in love with him.





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Little drabble based on a song of the same name by Jax Jones with a few references to the lyrics.

Your thumb hovers precariously over the number for his cell. Your mind knows you shouldn’t - that you should delete it immediately but your body responds differently; your pussy throbbing from the thought of him. One more taste? One more throw of caution to the wind and worry about the repercussions later?

 _No. You can’t._

You know that one more little taste will turn into something that neither of you have the stomach for.

It’s just a game you do. A game you both love to play. The running back and forth chasing that high nobody else can replicate. The late night phone calls that lead him to your door before fucking you brutally against it. You crave the heat, the fierceness, the carnal desperation possessing you so completely sometimes you forget how to breathe.

Dean Winchester does this to you. Stripping you of every basic involuntary action that all you become is a vessel of pure need. A need that only Dean and his perfect cock can sate. But once the moment is over and Dean’s slipped away, leaving you naked, bruised yet entirely satisfied - those creeping thoughts seep into your mind, caught on a loop like da da dum. Constantly telling yourself - I’m not that into you.

You can’t escape it. You feel him on you when you touch your skin; the faint aroma of his woody scent leaking from your pores, your fingers grazing your lips aching to savour every lingering drop until you can taste him again. 

You glance over at the clock hanging on the wall: a quarter after three. Dean won’t be awake but your thumb finds its way to the call button without your permission anyway, the low ringing in your ear stirring a flurry of butterflies that were laying dormant in your belly. 

He answers after five rings.

_Not like you’re counting._

Once he realises it’s you at the other end, all the frustration in the tone of his voice from being woken up melts away into a different kind of frustration. 

It only seems like moments later that three heavy knocks come at your door. Your hand around the handle, your entire body alights with the kind of anticipation that almost brings you to your knees. Pulling the door open, Dean stands in the corridor before you, bleary eyes and all. His eyes trail a lengthy gaze down your frame as he sucks up his bottom lip before letting it fall back into place and gives you a seductive pout. 

He steps towards you, silently grabbing the door frame and slams it shut behind him. His hands at your hips, he practically throws you against it stripping you of what little clothing you’re wearing as you free him of his pants before he hoists you up around his waist.

“Did I not make you come hard enough three hours ago?” He asks, his lips ghosting over yours. You both know full well he did - the slight aftershocks pulsing through your jelly legs remind you of that - but this unchaste compulsion inside you begs of him for more. No matter how much he fucks you till it hurts; it’s never enough. You want Dean. All the time.

You shake your head teasingly as he begins to thrust his way home, knowing that the perfectionist in Dean means he’ll spend the next three making sure he does. And this time, you definitely won’t be able to walk after.


End file.
